'Forgive my being playful for a moment, Olive--I shall never in this way offend you again.' She gave him a sweet and deprecating, almost an entreating, glance; but Allan did not perceive it; his face was turned angrily and sadly from her, so her pique--ever so ready--became roused. 'Olive,' said Allan, after a pause, 'love should always be stronger than pride.' 'Of course--when love exists,' she replied, turning a shoulder from him. 'And with you, Olive, do not let it stand between us as before. If your father's will is again the cause, let me tell you once more that I refuse to have any share in that lunatic arrangement, and will not marry you on any such conditions.' 'Who is thinking or talking of marriage?' said she, sarcastically, yet making an effort to restrain her tears; 'moreover, I fear that as a husband you would be very tyrannical and cruel.' 'My character in the present and the past does not bear out this, I think.' 'Suspicious, then?' 'Not without extreme and just reason,' replied Allan, as his mind flashed back to the Holcroft episode. She strove to glance at him defiantly, but failing, smiled, though his handsome face had in it an expression of sorrow and anger. 'Ere a month be past, Olive, an Egyptian bullet may make you every way a free woman, so far as regards your father's will.' 'I do not wish to be free from it,' she was on the point of saying passionately, but controlled her speech and remained--unwisely--silent. Allan regarded her wistfully. 'Are injudicious reticence and a little aversion the best beginning of a true love?' he asked. 'Perhaps--I am no casuist,' said she, tapping the ground with a pretty little foot impatiently. Lovely, pouting, and wistful, her face was now turned to his with a mixture of petulance and shy reproach as she thought, 'Oh, why does he not take me in his arms, and kiss and make a fuss with me as he used to do.' But, repelled by her curious manner, Allan had no intention of doing any such thing, and thought her a curious enigma. So thus the chance of a complete reunion ended, and ere long the luckless Olive was to have cause for repenting most bitterly her lack of candour and perfect trust, and the force of the overweening pride which engendered mistrust in one who loved her so well. CHAPTER XV. THE BLACK WATCH. War with Egypt had been declared, and in the Castle of Edinburgh, as in every other fortress and barrack in the British Isles, the notes of preparation were sounding, and the Black Watch, ever so glorious in the annals of our army, was among the regiments bound for the land where, eighty years before, it had gathered such a crop of laurels under the gallant Abercrombie, in conflict, not against a feeble horde of Egyptians, but when encountering forty thousand of the veteran infantry of France.